


That's What Makes You Whole

by briiriata



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, star - Fandom
Genre: Clone Troopers (Star Wars) Need Hugs, Clone Troopers Deserve Better (Star Wars), Clone Troopers Speak Mando'a (Star Wars), Clone Troopers as Brothers (Star Wars), Clones, Pre-Star Wars: The Clone Wars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28370043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briiriata/pseuds/briiriata
Summary: Some adventures with Clone Force 99
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

Rain pounded on the transparisteel. Again. Not that 5783/4293 knew much else. Kamino was all he knew, and all he would ever know. The Kaminoans would never allow him or the other mutated clones to leave. In fact, Ko Sai had very clearly told him that he would be terminated within the week.

“Too risky. Too volatile,” she had said while performing a routine check. “An interesting experiment, but nothing more.” 

5783/4293 had glanced over at the other experiments sitting in the room with him. They were only two years old by standard time, but their bodies looked to be about four.. Or at least that’s what the Ko Sai had said. 

The experiments had been poked and prodded. Blood samples taken, brains and other organs scanned multiple times. And it had hurt. 5783/4293 dreaded the weekly examinations. 

2438/0924 adjusted a pair of glasses on his small face. He looked terrified. Almost like he was about to cry. 

Another clone, 1007/3857 sighed. He looked older than four. Perhaps closer to around eight. Ko Sai had noted his growth was more accelerated than the others. He also acted much older. And, if 5783/4293 was being honest, he also had quite an attitude. 

“And why would it be beneficial for us to keep liabilities around?” Ko Sai picked up a com, most likely to contact someone to pick up these “liabilities” and take them away. 

5783/4293 folded his arms across his chest. He was getting a headache. The smells in here were nauseating. But maybe if he focused hard enough… 

The doors slid open and in sauntered a massive, armored man. Another clone? 

“Tor Griila,” Ko Sai said, putting the com down. “How very bold of you to walk in here.” 

“And how bold of you to decide these boys’ fate,” the armored man removed his helmet, revealing a scar-covered face. One eye was cloudy white. Dark hair, but he definitely was not a clone. “ _Ade_ , come here.” 

5783/4293 looked over at Ko Sai. She didn’t react, so the boys slowly slid off of the exam tables and walked to the scarred man. 

“I know what you tried with those Nulls. And you aren’t doing it again. I’m taking them, and I’ll train them myself.” 

Ko Sai shook her head slowly. “Don’t you have enough to do already? What about your commandos?” She sniffed. “Besides, you won’t get anywhere with these ones. They’re failed experiments. That one--” she pointed to 5783/4293. “While he has heightened senses, he can hardly focus. It’s too much stimulation. The blind one over there, his brain capacity is larger than most, but obviously he is not a soldier. And this one--” she nodded to the older looking clone. “His age acceleration is too fast.” 

“Where’s the other?” Tor asked, ignoring what Ko had just said. 

“The big one?” Ko rolled her eyes. It was a terrifying thing to see her do that since Kaminoans’ eyes were black with white pupils instead of the other way around. “His immaturity and size makes him rather difficult to examine with others. He’s in the barracks.” 

Tor Griila ushered the three clone boys out of the exam room. “Come, ade. Let’s go find your brother.” 

A heavy sigh caused everyone to stop in their tracks. Tor turned around and glared at Ko Sai. “What is it?” 

Ko wiped her hands on her laboratory coat. “You don’t have the right to do this. They’ll still be terminated. All you’re doing is giving these units false hope.” 

“These units?” Tor’s face turned crimson. A menacing blade flicked out from his gauntlet. A flicker of fear appeared in Ko Sai’s face and then disappeared, replaced with smugness. 

“You wouldn’t dare. You’d lose all the money you signed up for. Buying off you Mandalorians wasn’t cheap, but since you’re only motivated by money--” She paused, watching as Griila’s blade retracted. 

Tor sucked in a deep breath and took two of the boys by the hand, motioning for 5783/4293 to follow. “We’re going to the barracks.” 

The three boys followed the strangely armored man down the sterile halls to the barracks. 5783/4293 had never seen armor like that before. Trooper armor was white. White just like everything in Tipoca City. This man’s armor was black with a bold red stripe down the left side. And even though he’d only seen if for a fraction of a second, 5783/4293 was sure there was a white emblem of a skull on his right shoulder bell. Why had this man come and rescued them? He’d only been alive for a short time, but 5783/4293 already knew his life wasn’t worth anything. From the moment he had gained consciousness in that tank, tubes and wires had been stuck into him. He and the other boys with him hadn’t even been allowed to train like the other clones they’d seen walking around. Instead, they were either stuck in a lab or being examined by Ko Sai like today. Droids and other Kaminoans making remarks about them like they weren’t even there. 

So 5783/4293 jumped when Tor stopped suddenly and knelt down beside him and the others. “Do you know the clone I’m talking about?” 

5783/4293 nodded. “He’s big. Bigger than anyone else in the barracks. Knocks everything over. He’s in our pod.” 

Tor placed his hand on 5783/4293’s shoulder. “All right, _ad’ika_. Let’s go find him, and then we’ll go back to my place, how about that?” 

The boys nodded, still silent. But 5783/4293’s mind was racing. He had no idea what _ad’ika_ meant, but he liked the sound of it. It made him feel, well, it made him feel like he belonged. 

After retrieving 3348/0039, or “the big one,” the four boys and the armored man arrived in a small apartment. A bed, a table with a few chairs, and a holoscreen were the only things that 5783/4293 could see in the room, but it was certainly more than he had in the barracks. 

“You’ll stay in here until I can get in contact with Coruscant. That piece of tatsushi isn’t going to poke and prode you anymore if I have my say in it,” Tor announced, placing his black helmet on the table. 

2438/0924 finally spoke up. “Excuse me, but why are you doing this?” He pushed his glasses up again. “What exactly is going on?” 

Tor sighed and slouched down into one of the chairs, not answering right away. Because the truth was, he had no idea what was going on. 

2438/0924 stared up at Tor. "Are you going to help us?” 

Griila pulled out a datapad and began working on it. “I’m sure going to try.” 

A loud thud jolted everyone out of their focused reverence and everyone turned to see 3348/0039 laughing as he lay on the floor. “Don’t worry!” He exclaimed, raising a hand in the air. “I’m fine! But this bed is way more bouncy than our bunks!” 

1007/3857, the older clone, rolled his eyes. “You’re going to wreck everything, 3348/0039.” 

Tor waved his hand. “He’s fine. But that’s another thing. Enough with these numbers. Clones don’t call each other by those.” 

“That’s what everyone calls us, though,” 5783/4293 said, frowning. “What else are we supposed to call each other?” 

“By names. Do you know of Jango Fett?” 

All of the boys nodded, even 3348/0039 who was still lying on the floor. 

“Of course you do. Well, Jango Fett is his name. He doesn’t have a number because he’s a person. People don’t have numbers.” 

“But we’re not people. We’re just clones,” 1007/3857 said. 

“And broken clones,” 2438/0924 added. 

Tor bit his lip, and his nostrils flared. “No. You’re not just clones. And you are definitely not broken. I don’t care what anyone says, especially not that nasty scientist. You’re different. You’re special. And that’s what makes you whole.” Tor touched the corner of his eye, wiping away something. “And since you’re whole, you need names. Names are important, but you all get to choose your names. Most people don’t.” 

“Did you?” 2438/0924 asked. 

“No. I had a mother and a father, and Tor was the name they gave to me. And it has meaning. Means ‘just’ in _Mando’a_.” 

“And Em>Mando’a is the language of your people?” 2438/0924 asked. Tor could notice after every question the young clone seemed to be filing away information and filling in gaps. Ko Sai was right about one thing- he definitely did have brains. 

Tor nodded. “My people.” He stopped and corrected himself. “Our people. We are _Mando’ade_. We are Mandalorian.” 

“ _Mando’ade_ ,” 5783/4293 repeated. He liked how the word sounded in his mouth. “Can you teach us more of that language? More _Mando’a_?” 

Tor smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “I sure can, _ad’ika_. But,” he stretched and glanced at his datapad. “It’s late. Right now we all need to get some sleep. We’ll worry about everything else in the morning.” He stood and went to the bed, pulling down the blankets. “A few of you can fit in here. I’ll make a nice area on the floor or a chair for the others.” 

“Where are you sleeping?” 5783/4293 asked. 

Tor patted the chair he was sitting in. “This will do just fine for now. Mandalorians are warriors. Sometimes, while in battle, warriors can’t sleep in nice beds.” 

Tor picked a blanket off of the shelf and turned to find all four boys standing next to him. 

“Then we’re all sleeping in the chairs,” 5783/4293 said, nodding to the other clones next to him. 

“We’re warriors,” 3348/0039 said, cracking his knuckles and giving a goofy grin. 

2438/0924 nodded. “We’re Mandalorians.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter- deals with the death of children

Tor had done more digging after the boys had fallen asleep and found that while there were four of them, sixteen others had also been created with the same purpose. What that purpose was, Tor had no idea. Why experiment with life? Why experiment with genetics that had already been basically perfected? This pod had been originally part of a commando genome. Commandos were the best of the best. Best genetic makeup, best armor, best training. So why did the Kaminoans think it necessary to purposefully create mutations in these clones? Twenty total. Each one specifically modified to try to exaggerate certain qualities. Strength, senses, vision, intelligence. Most died in fetal development, but seven survived their “birth” or whatever they wanted to call it. One had heart problems and didn’t survive the day. Another was completely blind and Tor was horrified to find that the Kaminoans had euthanized him. A third lived about a week and died from excessive blood loss during a procedure.

That was where Tor had to stop. What kinds of things were these _demogolkas_ doing to these children? They were not droids to be tinkered with. They were living, breathing souls. He could feel his anger boiling inside him. 

Maybe it was because of Kara. His daughter. 

Tears silently fell down his cheeks as he thought of her. That small body burning on the funeral pyre. Tor missed her every single day. She lived longer than what she was supposed to according to science, but that didn’t make it easier. Kara was only six. Just barely older than these boys. Too young to leave this galaxy. 

So when he had gotten the comm from another one of the other _Cuy'val Dar_ that Ko Sai was making a decision on these mutated clones’ fate, Tor snapped. These boys didn’t have a say in their differences. They couldn’t speak up for themselves. So Tor would make sure he would. 

Morning on Kamino broke overcast and dreary. Like always. 

“Sir?” A small voice whispered from the chair next to him. Tor glanced over and noticed it was the one he sensed was the group’s leader. If he remembered right, it was the one Ko Sai had said had elevated senses. Tor winced. The poor boy was probably always over stimulated. It was a wonder he was able to to stay focused like he did. 

“I’m here. Do you need something?” Tor asked quietly. 

“I just never got the chance to tell you thank you. For what you did. We might be young, but we still understand what death is.” 

Tor wanted to punch the wall. Actually, he wanted to punch a Kaminoan. Four year olds should not have to understand death. Not death like this. Not this cold, calloused death that was nothing more to the Kaminoans as turning off a light. And Tor hated it. To Mandalorians, death was but another part of the way. But they remembered. They honored. Always. From the _kote kyr’am_ to the various colors of the _beskar’gam_. Death was honorable. It wasn’t something taken lightly. And if Tor had anything to do with it, he would make sure these four boys knew that. 

Tor smiled at the boy. This was the one he had called _ad’ika_ multiple times. Little child. It was what he had called Kara so often before she died. Somehow this one reminded him of her. They looked nothing alike of course. Kara had wispy blonde hair and fair skin like her mother. This boy’s hair was dark and thick. But it was the eyes. That was it. Both of their eyes were dark and deep. Like windows to the universe. Eyes with so much potential. 

" _Ad’ika_ , you don’t have to thank me.” Tor stood and stretched. It was time to get a move on with the day. “Wake your brothers. I’m going to teach you a song.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some soft Batchers for you today :)

"Honestly, Wreck," Crosshair mumbled, pulling the cup from the cabinet in the galley. "It's late. Like time for bed late. If I have to make you another cup of caf..."

"You'd love me even more than you do now?" Wrecker said, giving Crosshair a lopsided grin. His face was still half-bandaged from the explosion that almost took the clone's life. 

"Are you even allowed to be drinking this?" Crosshair hissed. But he handed Wrecker the cup of hot liquid anyway. 

"No, he's not," Tech said, walking into the galley. "Especially not before bed!" Tech was just wearing his blacks, his feet alsocovered in thick socks. He pushed the cup away from Wrecker's hands. "You can have that when I'm done," he said after seeing the protest on Wrecker's face. 

Tech pulled a chair up and opened his medkit. Not only was he the brains of the squad- slicer, tactician, translator, etc.- he was also the medic. He carefully unwrapped the bandages from Wrecker's face. "That's healing fairly well," Tech said. 

"Fairly?" Crosshair said, peering over Tech's shoulder. "You're uglier than ever. And that's saying something." 

Wrecker reached out and playfully punched Crosshair. To anyone else, the dynamic between Crosshair and Wrecker would seem harsh, but the rest of the squad knew the two were incredibly close. When Wrecker had been unconscious after the explosion, Crosshair hadn't left his side. flinched as Tech used a bacta spray to clean the wound again. "How's the vision?" Tech asked while preparing a fresh bandage. 

Wrecker closed his good eye and frowned. "Just red and blotchy still." 

"What's blotchy?" Hunter called from the ship's corridor. 

"Your face," Wrecker called out, wincing again as Tech touched it. 

"Stop moving!" Tech grumbled. "I'm gonna be honest with you, Wreck. You're probably not gonna be able to see much besides that. Maybe we can talk to Kamino about getting a cybernetic eye?" 

Wrecker sighed. "Nah. I'll just stick with this. Don't need that." 

Hunter gave him a look. "I don't know if you'll get a choice, Wreck." 

"I don't want to go to any more doctors." Wrecker's voice was quiet. 

Tech placed his hand on Wrecker's shoulder and looked over at Hunter. "I'm not a doctor, but if it's not causing you any pain at the moment, I'd say it's probably fine." 

Hunter nodded knowingly. The squad knew about Wrecker's aversion to doctors. They all hated them really, but Wrecker the most. Kamino wasn't good to them. 

A chirp from the holotable made all four clones look up. Hunter rushed over and turned on the transmission. 

"Tor'buir!" He grinned. Tor had been out on assignment with one of his other commando units for the past month. 

" _Ade_!" Tor was there in his traditional Mandalorian armor, his helmet in his hands. The familiar white skull emblem that the Batchers had adopted onto their own armor was emblazoned on Tor's chest plate now along with the number "99." 

"We see you got a new paint job, _Buir_ ," Tech said. "Looks spiffy." 

"Meh," Crosshair yawned. "Still not as spiffy as us." 

Tor shrugged. "I tried at least. Anyway, I wanted to check in with you, Wrecker," Tor said. "No comms during the last mission. I didn't hear about it until now." 

Wrecker turned his face so the bandages were facing the holocam. "It's not too bad. I look better now. Can scare those clankers better." 

Tor laughed, a deep but comforting laugh that very few people ever heard. Then his face grew serious. "I'm just glad you're okay, Wreck'ika." 

Hunter nodded. "He's been nominated for a medal of valor for his bravery." 

Wrecker's mouth dropped open. "Wha--" 

Hunter held up his hand. "Just got the word this afternoon. Wrecker was able to get six clones out of harm's way before the explosion. Six troopers who would've died if it weren't for him." 

Wrecker's face grew pink. "I don't think it was six..." 

"It was definitely six," Tech said. "I have an eidetic memory." 

Tor smiled. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Wreck." He looked down and then back up at the clones. "You're headed to Coruscant?" 

Hunter nodded. "Cody's got a job." 

"Good. I'll meet you there tomorrow." And the holo faded. That was Tor- never one for long goodbyes. 

"Why didn't you say Wrecker was nominated for that medal?" Tech asked, looking over at Hunter. 

The squad leader shrugged and then smiled at Wrecker. "I know you hate that stuff, Wreck. I wouldn't have even brought it up. But you know how Tor'buir likes to brag on us." He clapped his hands. "Coruscant ETA is nine standard hours. Get some rest. From what I can tell, this next mission's gonna be a doozy." 

Wrecker cracked his knuckles and grinned. "Oh good, doozies are my favorite." 

"Just try not to blow up the rest of your face this time," Crosshair said dryly. 

"No promises," Wrecker answered just as dryly. 

The squad laughed, something they didn't do often. And then embraced each other for a long time before heading off to the bunkroom. No one knew what the next day would hold. As troopers- as warriors- they knew each day could be their last. And life wasn't something they'd take for granted anymore.


End file.
